


272 - Shopping Mall Fun with Van and Larry

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Other, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 18:31:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14384559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “nothing but fun times with the boys? Late night store fun, empty parking lots, motor shopping carts and your own version of carpool karaoke? General fun things. They can all be platonic of course!” and “the reader’s best friend leaving her school or college or whatever and they probably won’t meet again and Van being comforting? Also could u include Larry n Van being super cute and that makes the reader feel a bit bad.” from goldandblueberries





	272 - Shopping Mall Fun with Van and Larry

**Author's Note:**

> Platonic goodness for ya! Apology: Timeline is a bit screwy. Pretend that Van/Catfish is delayed by a couple of years. So, like, The Balcony era but now. Idk. Doesn’t affect plot but just FYI.

“Ah, Y/N?! There’s two scruffy lookin’ lads here for you?” you heard one of your flatmates yell through the university-owned unit. It was small and voices travelled easy. The same could be said about the smell of packet mac and cheese, the sound of ringing cell phones, and the vibration of slammed doors. Since moving in, you’d really not had much sleep at all. 

When the insomnia was at its worst, you’d catch the bus over to Tulip’s place. She lived off-campus and her bedroom housed a bunk bed. She always took top, and you slept soundlessly below her whenever you needed it. She was the perfect friend like that; she was always open arms and open doors. 

You’d met Tulip in your first year of uni. She’d lead the library tour and information session you went to. It was the only Orientation Week event you bothered with. When it concluded, you asked Tulip where the nearest bar was. You’d been best friends since.

Tulip was a year and a half above you and since she’d graduated, you’d felt so homesick for her company. You missed her bunk bed and uni bar hangs. You missed her. Even though she constantly said, “Y/N! Stop! I’m not nearly as cool as you make it sound!” she was painfully cool. Too cool to send ‘omg I miss u’ messages too. Instead, you complained to your next best friend.

Van pretended to be devasted that he’d been replaced by Tulip. “I’d pick 'er over me too,” he conceded one day as you showed him photos of your weekend away with her.

“I’m not picking anyone over anyone. Stop being so dramatic,”

“Dramatic is literally his middle name, Y/N,” Larry reminded you, taking the laptop from Van and flicking through the photos. “But yeah. I’d pick her over him too.”

You could hear Van and Larry’s voices before you could see them. Your flatmate had not let them through the front door. She was good. She made cautious decisions and distrusted random dudes on her doorstep. She’d assessed them right; scruffy was apt, if not too kind. Larry’s long hair was a mess. If you had to comb out another fucking dreadlock, you’d cut it all off yourself. One of Van’s shoes was held together with duct tape. Parts of the tape had melted under the heat of cigarette ash.

“You know 'em?” your flatmate asked.

“Yeah. Ah, this is Van and Larry, from back home. And this is Maggie,” you introduced awkwardly.

Maggie smiled and waved politely, looked them over again, then looked at you.

“Are you guys staying in?” she asked, a loaded question if you’d ever heard one. Despite being on average the noisiest of the four flatmates, she was also the one that constantly reminded people when she had tests (somehow, every week) and that people needed to keep the noise down. 'Are you guys staying in?’ was code for 'You guys better not be staying in.’

“Nah,” Van answered her quickly. “We’re kidnapping this one and cheering her up since her one true love left!” His shoulders bounced as he spoke. The excitement was evident and years ago you would have thought that meant he had a plan. You learnt that Van hardly ever had a plan in regards to socialising and was more a wing-it kind of guy.

“Who’s he talking about?” Maggie asked, turning to you. Her arms were folded across her chest and her choice of words was a clear attempt at exclusion.

Either Van didn’t realise or he wanted to defy her. “Tulip, obviously. Ever since she graduated and went off to travel, Y/N’s been mopin’ about, listening to sad music and liking those sad pictures on the internet,”

“Memes,” you and Larry said simultaneously.

“Yeah, whatever. So, we thought we’d take her out and have some fun,” Van finished. He turned from Maggie to you and winked. Dramatic.

 

…

“Ryan. Indulge me. What exactly is your definition of fun?”

“Y/N! I don’t live 'round here. Nobody’s gonna know me or Catfish. Gotta use that to my advantage, ya know?" 

"So, putting books in the wrong section is, like, on your bucket list?” you asked.

“Fifty Shades of Grey is a fuckin’ crime, Y/N, so it belongs in the crime section,” he said too seriously.

“Yeah. Alright. I’ll pay that one. Why’d you move Animal Farm to kids?”

“Kids love animals!” he answered with conviction. Larry laughed.

“Have you read Animal Farm?” you asked Van.

“You know I don’t read anythin’ but Mike Skinner’s book. We should move that to the religion section.”

Van moved a bunch of music biographies to the 'must read’ section, then congratulated you on putting Life of Pi in cooking. Larry made his contribution by moving Moby Dick to the adult corner. Van loved it and you rolled your eyes. They were meant to be adults. The final books moved were On the Road and The Road to travel. You tried to explain to Larry and Van what each was about, but they didn’t much care for the Beat Generation and apocalyptic landscapes void of warmth and much humanity.

“Alright. What’s next?” Van asked when you left the bookstore in the mall, unnoticed by staff.

“Saw a bunch of those motorised shopping carts near the info desk,” Larry said, looking at Van with an expression that spoke of past menace.

“You have to hire them or show a concession card,”

“Or, you don’t,” Van said confidently, walking off in the direction of the information desk.

Around the corner from it, Van stopped and took his hoodie off. He bundled it into a ball and handed it to you.

“Here. Put this under your shirt,”

“What?”

“And like, look tired, like you’ve got a little bun in the oven. They’ll give you one if you’re pregnant,” he explained.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Larry said, patting Van on the back.

“Are you fucking serious? That’s not going to work,”

“Y/N, I’d play pregnant but they might call bullshit on that.”

You had no mirror to assess how authentically pregnant you looked and instead had to go by Van and Larry’s word. They nodded in approval, stupid grins on their faces. Van took your hand, stood up tall and marched you over to the desk.

“Hey, there-” Van paused to read her name tag, “Rose. That’s a lovely name! My favourite flower too. How has your night been so far, Rose?”

Rose stayed in her seat behind the desk, looking at Van sceptically. She moved her hands from the keyboard to fold her arms across her chest.

“Been fine. What can I do for you?”

“Me and the misses have come out to pick up a few last minute things for the nursery,” Van told her, motioning to you. You smiled at her. She did not smile back. “And her feet are killing her. You know how it is, with the baby kickin’ and whatnot,”

“That’s an assumption to make,” Rose muttered.

Van persisted. “We were hoping to hire one of the motorised mobility shopping carts. We’d have it back in an hour and money is of no concern.”

You had to hold in laughing at the way Van was speaking. Biting the inside of your cheeks and squeezing his hand, you rubbed your fake baby and tried to look… with child. Rose stood up and looked you up and down.

“It’s a girl,” you suddenly said. “We’re going to name her Lyla, like the Oasis song.”

Two minutes later, you were driving a shopping cart away from the information desk and listening to Van and Larry absolutely piss themselves. 

It took half an hour of driving around shops, smashing into things and each other, for it to get boring. You were sick of picking up things and putting them back on the shelves and you were getting hungry. When you returned the cart with a significantly less round stomach, Rose seemed pissed.

“No harm, Rose!” Van said.

“Food?” Larry asked when you joined him from around the corner.

In line at McDonald’s, you all decided firmly on Happy Meals. Firstly, they were cheap. Secondly, they were happy. Obviously. Third and lastly, none of you had had one in a while. It was a little piece of nostalgic joy.

“Got Peter Rabbit toys,” Van noted, pointing up at the menu. “Mum used to read me them books when I was little,”

“Me too!” you replied. Another little piece of joy: whenever someone has shared history with you. There was something kinda cool about the fact that you didn’t know Van when he was a little kid, all bright-eyed and fluffy (…so not that different to now), but you were both cuddled up in beds with your mothers, hearing Beatrix Potter stories by lamplight.

Van ordered first.

“Hi, welcome to McDonald’s. What can I get for you?”

“One Happy Meal please! Extra happy!” he said to the girl behind the counter. She didn’t seem charmed.

“Chicken snack wrap, McNuggets, hamburger or cheeseburger?” she asked.

Van turned and pointed at you. “You get nuggets.” Then to Larry, “You get cheeseburger.” And, back to the girl, “Hamburger, please,”

“Apple slices or carrot sticks?”

Slowly, Van’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Apple slices or carrot sticks?”

“I heard ya… but… what?” he asked again.

“McDonald’s supports healthy choices for a healthy McFuture. All fries have been replaced with fruit or vegetable choices. Would you like apple slices or carrot sticks?” she said, like she had probably said a million times before.

Larry started to giggle. You watched Van turn to you like you could fix the situation. You just shrugged; you liked carrot sticks.

“This is… This is honestly very shocking, you know what I mean?” Van said to the girl. “Um… I don’t like apple or carrot.” Her face told you all that she really didn’t care. “I like banana!” he offered helpfully.

“The banana smoothie on the McCafe menu is fake,” she said.

“How can it be fake?” Van countered, genuinely confused.

“Mate. Just fuckin’ order,” Larry said from behind Van.

“Can I just have fries though?” Van asked the girl in his nicest voice.

“Whatever,” she said as she punched it in. When she gave him the drink options, she was relieved to find that Van was a fan of flavoured milk. 

Sitting in the shopping mall food court with fries for Van, apple for Larry, and carrot for you, everyone was mostly happy. Van still seemed a little outraged at McDonald’s corporate decision to provide healthier options.

“Like, when I’m a dad, I don’t want to be told what to feed my kid,” he said.

“Are you gonna feed your kid Happy Meals?” you asked.

“Maybe. Probably not. Gonna give them all homemade stuff,”

“Sure you are. Your wifey gonna do that now you’re all rockstar famous on tour? Huh?”

Van rolled his eyes. He avoided the topic of his fame. He wasn’t famous famous. Just recognisable to indie kids in the U.K., and maybe a few other places around the world.

When the food was shared then gone, you watched the guys unwrap the plastic toys. Van and Larry were particularly taken with them and were offended when you had not handed over your Peter Rabbit light maze contraption. “I’m too attached,” you said, holding it close.

Van was initially jealous that Larry got the soccer game, but once he worked out how to use his carrot launcher, he no longer felt inferior.

“Do ya reckon if I ask for a McFlurry, she’ll be like 'oh, here’s a fuckin’ turnip instead?’” Van said as he stood, fishing around in his pockets for loose change.

When Van returned with an M&M McFlurry to share, you proposed a game then lead them to the playing field.

It was one of those stores that had 'everything you needed!’ but really nothing you could ever need. All the items were made of cheap plastic and the entire place was colour-coded. Even looking down the yellow aisle made you feel a bit dizzy. You wondered how stores like it could even remain open. Then, as you watched Larry and Van pick up random things and make them spin, sing, and squelch, it made sense. Children sure are persuasive things.

“Alright, here’s the game,” you said. They listened intently. “Max spend is ten and you have to buy a gift for everyone. Doesn’t have to be an even split,”

“So I can spend nine on you and a buckaroo on Larry?” Van asked rhetorically. He smirked like he made a super sick joke.

Each of you went off into a different part of the store. The game was easy for you; you’d always possessed an uncanny ability to find random shit for people in short amounts of time. Van would get a keychain, fluffy and banana shaped. The banana was personified, and he appeared to be a guitarist. The little felt guitar was cute. For Larry you found an alternative to the dice one would hang from their rear-view mirror. Soccer balls on string, ready for the hanging. They were a fake-Fifa brand and that made it all the better.

“Y/N?” Van’s unmistakable voice from behind you. He was at the end of the aisle, eyes closed. You laughed immediately

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t wanna ruin my surprise, do I? Need your opinion, but. For Larry?” he asked, holding up a large plastic container of dark green army people. “They got little sticky bits on their feet so you can stick 'em to stuff,”

“Yeah. I can see him enjoyin’ that way too much. Approved,” you replied.

Van grinned, eyes still closed. He turned and walked straight into someone. As he apologised multiple times, you walked away.

You spied Larry down the 'miscellaneous items’ aisle, which was confusing because the entire fucking store was filled with miscellaneous items. What item was too miscellaneous for the rest of the place? You hoped whatever Larry was getting you was from the depths of those multi-coloured baskets.

Meeting back in the food court, all three of you looked equally smug. Van was quite visibly the most excited though.

“Lemme go first!” he said. “Okay, okay. Hold out ya hands and close ya eyes,” he followed up.

It was startling to feel sensation on your head rather than in your hands. Van put a headband there. He was gentle but you were instantly terrified of what you looked like. You’d seen a bachelorette party section and the likelihood of there being a dick tiara on your head was unfortunately high.

Van commended open.

“Ha ha!” Larry cheered. He opened the container and poured army men everywhere. They spilt onto the table and floor.

You went to take the headband off. Van quickly put his hand over yours to stop you. “Just gotta trust me that you look dead cute,”

“Yeah…” you replied slowly. “No. No, I don’t.”

Fluffy leopard print cat ears. They were cute and large enough that they were clearly comical. Nobody would mistake you for a sixteen-year-old emo kid (though, that wouldn’t be the worst thing) or a furry (that would be the worst thing).

“See? Cute,” Van said, taking the headband and putting them back on you.

“I kinda love them. Thank you,” you said.

Van’s chest puffed with pride as he watched Larry stick army people to everything in arm’s reach.

Larry took a very short break from his mission to unceremoniously dump his gifts on the table. He gave Van a Rubik’s cube and as Van’s face contorted into all sorts of odd expressions, you knew Larry was taking the absolute piss. He really didn’t expect Van to be able to solve it. Poor Van.

You held your gift in your hands and stared at it in utter disbelief.

“How is this not worth a fortune?!”

“Probably is on eBay. Guess this place just has stock from ages ago,” Larry answered with a shrug.

‘Music From and Inspired by Pokemon: The First Movie,’ released in 1999. “I forgot about B*Witched! Oh my God. Larry. This is… Just. Wow.”

Van loved his guitarist banana and proceeded to rub the fluffy yellow on his cheek. Larry stood and requested immediate departure to his car in order to put the not-Fifa Fifa soccer balls in place. As he stood, more army people ran free.

It was dark outside and the lights illuminating the carpark were attracting moths and other bugs. They swarmed around the globes, making the light coming from them lessened.

“Guys, I’m sad. Push me,” you said as you took hold of an abandoned shopping cart in the carpark. Van held the handles of the cart as Larry helped you in. You sat in it cross-legged, excited for the ride.

“Ready?” Van asked.

He spun the cart around and around, making you feel sick and forcing a scream out of you. The circles stopped, but he started to run up and down the rows of cars, showing a disrespect for drivers finding parks for late night shopping. Larry followed along casually, taking photos and videos, offering friendly waves to anyone who looked over.

You were almost at Larry’s car when the voice of the security guard startled you all.

“HEY!” he yelled, walking fast in your direction.

“Babe. Out,” Van ordered, stopping to lift you out of the shopping cart.

“You lot! What ya doing!”

Van took your hand and started to run. You grabbed Larry’s and pulled him along too. You piled into his car before the guard got close. In the rear-view mirror, you watched him shake his fist, becoming a caricature of himself.

“Bloody kids!” Larry mocked in a deep voice.

“Havin’ the bloody fun. Bloody monsters, the lot of 'em,” Van added.

“He was just doing his job,” you said, sitting down in the front seat and putting your seatbelt on.

“Boooooooo!” both the guys said in unison.

“What?! He was! And we were causing a ruckus!”

“Ruckus?!” Van squealed.

“Boooooooooooooooo!” Larry said again.

You pulled a face at them at and then fussed over Van until he sat down in the back middle seat and put his seatbelt on. The next point of order was the lack of music. You rummaged through your bag.

“It’s a joke gift, Y/N. We ain’t listening to fuckin’ Pokemon,” Larry said as he swatted your hand away.

“Yeah, Y/N. Pick something we all like. Pick a tuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuune, love,” Van added, leaning forward from where he was. If he really did have his seatbelt on, it was only around his waist and very fucking loose.

After listening to the Pokemon themed songs you wanted to, you switched to the radio, channel surfing until you found something good.

“I’m really out of touch with music,” Van said when he was unable to recognise almost any songs. Then, “Oh! Nah! Leave it!”

New Rules. Dua Lipa.

“Wow. Wouldn’t have called it,”

“This is a good pop song. And the film clip is clever,” Van said. He was always full of surprises.

The song played through, each of you taking it in turns to list the rules.

Van had, “One! Don’t pick up tha’ phone! Ya know he’s only callin’ 'cause he’s drunk 'n alone!”

“Two!” yelled an out of tune Larry. “Don’t let 'em in! You’ll 'ave to kick 'em out again!”

You finished with, “Three! Don’t be his friend. You know you’ll wake up in his bed in the mornin'…”

Together, “And if ya under him, you ain’t getting’ over him!”

Larry’s dancing was easily the best, even with the designated driver job obstructing his amazing moves.

After almost four songs in a row, all of your voices got a little husky and you all felt a little tired. Larry went quiet, driving aimlessly through suburbs and city streets, and Van was leaning forward, pulling gently on pieces of your hair. “If I knew how to do little braids, I’d do that,” he said quietly.

“You guys wanna stop for dessert?” Larry asked.

“We had McFlurry,” you responded.

“Second dessert, Y/N. Supper,” Van clarified.

“Are you guys hobbits or something?”

“Y/N, you think you’re makin’ fun of us, but we have watched Lord of the Rings and all three are cinematic masterpieces, thank you very much. And the hobbits are well good. Brave and good friends and shit. Callin’ us hobbits is a compliment more than anything,” Larry said.

“Wow. Yeah. Fair point. Second breakfast it is.”

It was easy to find somewhere open. Van greeted the girl at the door of a late night dessert bar and asked for a booth in the back. It was private. You sat leaning against Van with his arm around you. Larry dipped his head and looked at you suspiciously.

“We ain’t made a dent in that sadness, huh?” he asked.

“No, you have. I just… No, I’m okay. I’m glad you came. I’m sorry that I-”

“Nothing to be sorry for, Y/N. We get it. It’s alright. Come on… Here’s the menu. Distract yourself with something ah-maaaaaa-zin’, yeah?” Van said, handing over a menu and watching you read it in joy.

Van ordered a sundae, but when it arrived it became clear how very, very good that decision was. It was a deep fried banana topped with a scoop of vanilla and a scoop of chocolate ice cream. It was a gooey warm brownie on the side and sprinkled with nuts and melted chocolate. He almost died when he saw it. You and Larry both ordered pancakes. Yours were Nutella, complete with Kinder egg, Ferrero Rocher and hazelnuts. Larry chomped his way through red velvet pancakes layered with vanilla mascarpone and topped with berry compote and wild berry ice cream.

“I think this is a bit more than supper, guys,” you said, happily distracted from the miserable truth that you’d hardly see Tulip anymore at all. It was a fact that would be back on your mind soon. Nutella cannot cure all. It was more of a brand name band-aid type of food.

“Seriously though. Thank you for coming all this way to see me. I know yous are real busy now. Hard to find time,”

“You’re our best mate, Y/N. We’d do anything for ya,” Van said, chocolate sauce dripped on his chin.

 

…

Your flatmates were not in bed but had settled for the night. Maggie was sitting at the table, studying books and notes. The other two were parked in front of the television, half asleep and holding lukewarm cups of tea. Van and Larry tiptoed along behind you as you went to your room.

Door closed, the boys breathed out dramatically and threw themselves on your bed. It was a single; they draped their limbs over each other and got comfortable against the wall and pillows like only they could. They were so familiar with each other, so close and secure. You loved them for how they loved each other.

“I want in on this cuddling,” you said, stepping closer to them.

“Music?!” Van said quickly. BØRNS on, you joined the pile of human and wriggled in. For a while, nobody spoke. Then Van, in true Van style, noted the obvious yet ignored. “Still sad, love?”

“Not your fault. You guys did good. Think I’ll just miss her for a while,”

“Did I ever tell you 'bout the first time we did a tour without Larry?” Van asked you. You shook your head and looked up at Larry. He was smiling fondly. “Just so… unexpected, right. 'Cause I never really missed home. Never missed me parents, even though I obviously love them. But it was the first time I had done the whole touring thing, show thing, without Larry and it was so different, you know what I mean? I didn’t even know that I missed him until I got home. Saw the little fucker and was like 'shit, mate,’ and I almost cried!”

“You never cry!” you said, completely shocked, sitting up.

“I know!” Van squealed, happy he’d got a positive reaction from you.

You grinned and looked from him to Larry, then back. “Aw, man. I love you guys!”

“Aw! Y/N!” Van cooed back, pulling you back into the best ever hug.


End file.
